


Duty of Care

by kijikun, Obstinate Nocturna (ChrisCrossed)



Series: To the Very Spark [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCrossed/pseuds/Obstinate%20Nocturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctors and guards have a surprisingly similar code: protect those in your care.</p><p>It's just a matter of who holds their duty closer to spark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, all the thanks to our awesome beta harutemu <3

Knock Out had done some odd things since joining up with the Decepticons -- more so since Starscream ( _and ah, there was that twinge of guilt again, pulsing like an open wound against his conscience_ ) had summoned him to Earth. But for all of that, taking care of a _sparkling_ was possibly the highest on that list.

It was certainly one of the most pleasant things he’d been tasked with, at least. She had been fussy, at first, but who wouldn’t be after being in stasis as long as she had? Poor thing had wanted her carrier, but… well, that just wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon at least. Breakdown had been surprisingly good with the bitlet, and -- not that Knock Out would ever admit it aloud -- the sight of the ex-Wrecker with the sparkling made something in his chest flutter a bit. 

The bitlet in question was squealing happily as Breakdown held her up above his helm, spinning her around. Her tiny arms and legs waved and kicked as little winglets that weren't quite sure yet if they were doorwings or proper wings wiggled instinctively as she ‘soared.’

“Alright, Breakdown, as much as I’m sure the bitlet enjoys playing Seeker, I do need to actually conduct her follow up at some point, as per Lord Megatron’s orders,” Knock Out said, hands on his hips and tapping a pede showily.

Breakdown looked -- a little embarrassed, as if he’d forgotten that Knock Out was still in the room with him, lowering his arms, “Heh, right. Sorry, Doc.”

“Mm,” Knock Out said, gesturing to the exam table, “I never would have guessed that you would be so good with sparklings, Breakdown.”

Breakdown shrugged slightly, setting the sparkling down on the exam table. "Big family. Kinda had to be."

The sparkling whined she was set on the table, pouting slightly and holding her arms up to be held again, “Breakdown will play with you more later, bitlet. Right now I have to give you your check up.”

"Gotta admit, she's a cute little bit. Hard to believe whose sparkling she is," Breakdown chuckled, very gently bopping the sparkling’s olfactory sensor node. "Be good for Knock Out an' I'll give you a rust stick."

"Knock too?" she chirped.

Breakdown chuckled, optic roving over Knock Out. "If he's good he'll get a treat too."

“My treat had best be significantly bigger than a rust stick,” Knock Out muttered, smirking up at Breakdown, “And I imagine that her ca -- her other creator had something to do with her looks,” Knock Out said, catching himself just in time. Last time someone had used the word “carrier” around the sparkling, she'd bawled for joors. Lord Megatron had been less than pleased.

"Speaking of creators, s’Lord Megatron decided on a new designation for her yet?" Breakdown asked.

"Prima!" she chirped patting her chassis.

Knock Out would have kicked Breakdown if it wouldn't have scraped his paint. Breakdown did look a bit guilty at least. Still -- it was annoying having to refer to the bitlet as anything but what she - and her locked up former caretaker - insisted was her designation. But Lord Megatron refused to have _his_ sparkling called Prima Lux in his presence. 

Leave it to a _Prime_ to name their sparkling “Primus' Light.”

"Yes, bitlet, we know. Now can you be a big girl and open your medical port for me? We'll get this over quickly and then you can play."

"Knock Out too?" she asked, her face scrunching up as she tried to find the code Knock Out had shown her during her last check up to get the panel open.

"Mm, afraid not, princess. I have other patients besides you, although they’re all much less cute. I'm sure Breakdown will play with you before you go back to your sire." 

She pouted, disappointed, but was quickly distracted by her medical port popping open, and Knock Out couldn't help a small smile as she presented her arm to him proudly, “Yes, well done,” he praised, patting her helm as he pulled out his smallest diagnostic cable. It wasn’t particularly pretty or professional looking -- why would it be, when it was something he’d jury rigged together out of need vorns ago for… well, that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that it worked, and worked well, and Megatron was under the impression he’d whipped it up especially for Prima, which got him points and neither Megatron nor Soundwave looking too closely at him while he worked for a while.

"I see Treb soon?" Prima asked, whether she was directing it at Knock Out who was double checking her systems or Breakdown it wasn’t clear, but Knock Out still grimaced. 

"She's still recovering, bitlet," Breakdown hastily told her. "I'm sure your sire will let you know when you can visit her. Knock Out'll tell her hi for you though, won't you doc?"

Prima turned her huge blue optics on the medic, and Knock Out was fairly certain he couldn’t have said no if he was being held at fusion cannon-point, “I’ll pass the message on,” he assured the sparkling, giving Breakdown a ‘look’ over Prima’s helm. Breakdown shrugged helplessly. 

:: _What’d ya want me to say, Doc?_ ::

:: _Something **other** than passing the blame off onto me and Megatron would have been ideal_.:: Knock Out replied. Nothing to be done for it now, though.

The sparkling blepped happily, making soft engine noises as her glossa peeked out between her lipplates, unaware of the private communications being passed between the other two mechs in the room. "Play soon?" she asked getting impatient. 

“In a minute,” Knock Out felt some measure of relief when all of the delicate, still developing systems all pinged back green, carefully unhooking his cable, “There, all done,” He said, patting her helm, “You’re a perfectly healthy little bit. Now off with you both, I have work to do,” he said, waving them toward the door.

Breakdown scooped the sparkling up, making her giggle and shriek as he set her on his shoulders behind his helm, “Hear that? You’re good to go. Know what good sparklings get?”

“Rust stick!” She giggled, clapping her hands.

Knock Out let them get halfway to the door before looking over his shoulder, “Oh, and Breakdown?”

Breakdown turned, optic flickering slightly in concern, “Yeah?”

“I expect _my_ ‘treat’ to be ready and waiting for me in my hab-suite after I’m done with my other patients.” Knock Out said, leering slightly.

It never got old, watching the much bigger mech get flustered at mere _glyphs_ , “Uh. Yeah. Sure thing, Knock Out,” Breakdown said, faceplates flushing slightly as he quickly hurried out of the medbay.

Knock Out smirked, strutting over to one of the cabinets and opening it to reveal an array of gleaming, surgically sharp blades that had no place in a proper medical setting.

At least _that_ would be something to look forward to. After all, he had one more “follow up” this orn, and this one wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant.

\---

When mechs looked at Knock Out, they would see a frame at home on a race track, not a medical bay. And _certainly_ not in the bowels of the _Nemesis_. And yet, there he was, whistling some catchy human pop song he'd heard last time he went racing (and had been _stuck in his processors ever since)_ as he made his way to the prisoner cells.

The doors to the high security cell parted before him near silently, and Knock Out stepped inside. While Knock Out usually preferred doing his work in the medbay -- it was so much easier to put important prisoners back together there, he didn’t have to lug his tools to the bottom of the ship. And, Starscream had never found it theatrical enough for his tastes so Knock Out didn't have to worry about the SIC ( _former,_ part of his processor supplied with a twinge of guilt) doing more damage that he'd have to fix. But medical stasis had proven not to be enough to hold their Autobot prisoner, and Lord Megatron had ordered her brought here instead.

“Hello again, sweetspark. It’s time to grace you with my presence once again and see if my lovely visage can knock some more interesting tidbits loose," he purred, glancing at the mini-bot who - at some point - would have been quite a looker. Megatron was not easy on anyone’s paint job, much less snarky Autobots who shot their mouths off at him. "And how are we feeling this orn?” He asked, though he imagined she wasn’t feeling much of anything, really. The cuffs holding her in place were heavy duty, easily strong enough to hold a mech Breakdown or Bulkhead’s size. A bit overkill, in Knock Out’s opinion, but he wasn't about to tell Lord Megatron that. Nor was he going to point out that the odds of the mini-bot knowing _anything_ useful was unlikely with how long she'd been in stasis, even if she _had_ been supposedly guarding that old relic Alpha Trion. This was almost just for show and a waste of his time, but Soundwave was thoroughin checking up on the interrogation processes. So, sadly, _some_ marks had to be left. 

A shame to further ruin her pretty plating. But, needs must and all.

There was, unsurprisingly, no answer, except an icy glare from even icier blue optics, “Not feeling talkative? Well, we can fix that.” Knock Out shrugged, turning to the three tables ever-so-carefully placed _just_ in the prisoner’s line of sight and beginning to unpack his subspace, “The little princess says hi, by the way,” Knock Out said casually over his shoulder, smirking slightly as he heard the sharp intake of the mini’s vents. He continued humming softly, fastidiously lining up his tools, making a show out of tapping a claw on his chin thoughtfully as he looked them over, “Mm, so many choices, I’m not sure where to start,” he chuckled, “Well, how about we start with one of my favorites, hm? Now let’s see, where _did_ I put that rotary saw…?” His optics swept over the triad of tables for the blade.

Something silver gleamed in his peripherals just above his shoulder, and he reached up to take the proffered weapon, “Ah, thank --” Knock Out froze, claws just touching the metal of the saw blade as his processor caught up and reminded him that _Breakdown wasn’t there_ , “-- you?!”

Static crackled in the air briefly before pain jolted through Knock Out’s entire frame, protoform deep, sending him crashing to the floor. Warnings popped up in his HUD one after another as his optics tried their best to focus on the femme standing above him, a sparking taser in one hand. “You know,” she said, her voice seeming very far away to his panicking systems, “You really _do_ have a pretty face. Shame it was wasted on a ‘Con. Have a nice nap, _sweetspark_.”

Knock Out tried to spit out something that was surely a witty retort, but it all came out as static before his medical protocols took over and offlined him.


	2. Chapter 2

Treble leaned heavily against the table for a moment, her frame aching straight down to her protoform. Her processor brought up several different protocols to combat both the pain and the slightly muddled processing functions; including letting her modified tact-net take over. She dismissed all of them and rummaged through the medic’s tools until she found a pain blocker patch. 

At least with this she could _run_. It was quick work applying it to her knee joint where the worst of the pain was. The rest of aches and she could deal with that. Her wrists -- hell her entire forearms -- were thankfully still numb from the after effects of the powerful stasis. She’d likely be feeling the effects of almost tearing her limbs out of the oversized cuffs sooner rather than later though.

She wasn't going to let TACT-net run her frame anywhere near Prima -- not when it would reduce Prima to nothing more than a duty, where ‘alive’ didn’t necessarily translate to ‘safe and unharmed.’ 

Prima was her mission, but she was also just a sparkling. Her _charge_ , not just her duty or a package to be delivered. 

Prima was all she had left. 

She'd let her frame break down before she let any harm come to Prima, from anyone. 

Slicking her platting down and engaging stealth protocols, she hopped up onto the table and pulled out the vent grating. Knock Out always came to the brig after checking up on Prima. The medic-cum-interrogator had even admitted he'd seen the sparkling recently. Treble allowed herself a smile as she pulled herself up into the ducts. 

If Knock Out came to her alone, it meant there was an eighty-nine percent certainty that Breakdown had Prima. Which increased the odds of escape _tenfold_ than if _Megatron_ or his creepy mute TIC had Prima. 

Treble slid through the ducts, navigating the twists and turns quickly despite her protesting frame. At one vent opening a Vehicon turned its helm towards the vent and its visor lit as though it sensed something -- but after a moment of silence, it turned abruptly away, visor still bright and its movements stiff despite their speed and carried on with its patrol.

Something odd was going on with them she was sure, but that wasn't her mission. _Prima_ was her misson. Until Prima was safely in her Prime's arms there was nothing else but the _misson._

Nothing and no one else could be allowed to dwell in her processor. Not her twin. Not her world. Not her creators. 

Treble had to shutter her optics against the pain that swelled in her spark. Her TACT net pinged with another request for full power up. She denied it again. She would do this as herself. 

She could do this. She _could._

It seemed to take far far longer than it should have to pick up Prima's field. She was being carried towards what was likely officer's quarters by Breakdown, Knock Out's - assistant, lover, heavy, whatever. 

Peering through the vents, Treble focused in on the tiny sparkling in the former Wreckers hands. She was giggling, her field was light and happy. Breakdown's field was calm and his vocalizations to the sparkling were soft, warm.

Good.

She hadn't miscalculated about either of the Con’s personalities. Willing to hurt her, but also willing to take good care of a sparkling. Megatron might have claimed Prima as his (true or not didn't matter, it wasn’t for her to speculate, not right now), but safe didn't mean happy. Safe didn't mean well cared for.

Breakdown's steps stilled just past the vent.

"I know you're up there little bot," he rumbled. "Come down and say hello. Prima's missed you."

Treble dropped to the floor with nearly no noise, hoping that Breakdown could _feel_ her glaring at his back before she managed to school her expression into something less angry when he turned to face her; it was easy to smile despite her rage and pain; fear, too, a tiny part of her processor whispered, deep in enemy territory as she was. But it was almost impossible not to when Prima squealed happily, reaching tiny arms toward her, “Treb!”

"Hi, Prim. You being a good bit?" Treble asked, letting her stance stay loose but still ready and able to strike fast and hard. Her processor was running scenario after scenario on how to get Prim and subdue the mech holding her.

"Yes!" Prima chirped. "Good for Sire. Good for Breakdown and Knock Out." Prima chirped curiously and tilted her helm, “Where’s Knock Out?”

Treble felt the less calculating part of her feel a little guilty for the medic lying unconscious in the belly of the ship. She hadn't deactivated him though and a taste of his own medicine with that shock rod had only been fair. Right? "The good doctor is taking a little nap right now." She wasn’t sure if the shift in Breakdown’s field was relief or suspicion when she mentioned Knock Out, but she wasn’t about to waste time trying to convince the Decepticon that she hadn’t killed his fellow, “But it’s time for us to go now. Your carrier’s waiting for you. You wanna go see him?”

"I'm thinkin' her sire and my boss wouldn't take kindly to that," Breakdown rumbled, shifting his grip on the now eagerly chirping sparkling that was trying to squirm out of his arms. "Maybe her carrier should have kept her a little closer or picked a better bitlet sitter."

Treble felt her plating rattle in affront, “Why don’t you come over here and say that to my faceplates, you big cyclops?”

"Treb?" Prima vocalizations turned warbling and unsure.

Breakdown held up a hand. "Insults aside, why don't you calm down there before you upset our little charge here and bite off more than you can take down your intake. How old are you anyways, kid?" 

“She is _not_ your charge,” Treble growled, then smirked, optics roving over Breakdown’s frame, “And I’ve taken bigger.”

A deep chuckle rumbled up from the 'con. "Have you?"

“Yeah. Why don’t you stop hiding behind Prima and I’ll show you.”

"In front of the bitlet?" Breakdown chuckled, almost teasingly.

Another time, Treble might have enjoyed the banter more. Or maybe -- no he was a con. They were both cons. And they'd tortured her. What the frag was glitched in her processor? 

"Not sure that’d be good for her, but -- " Breakdown went on before he gently placed Prima down on the ground. "Why don't we dance a bit and see who gets to sparkling sit this orn." He patted Prima's head. "Don't worry bit. Just close your optics for a bit, okay?"

"Why?" Prima chirped, still sounding distressed.

“We’re gonna play a game,” Treble said, “Like we used to, remember? With Smokey and Alpha Trion? Cover your optics and turn off your audials and count to a hundred for me. No peeking.”

Prima chirped happily, putting her hands over her optics. “A hundred? You’re being generous.” Breakdown smirked.

"To you or me?" Treble quipped. 

Breakdown sighed. "C'mon kid, I can tell you're in pain. That knee joint of yours isn't going to hold you up for too much longer. I know Knock Out’s patches when I see ‘em. You go back to your cell all nice little 'bot and I'll even forgive you putting your servos on my conjux."

“Generous of you, but not going to happen,” Treble growled, "C'mon big boy, let's dance."

Breakdown grunted and moved forward.

Treble, even hurting, was faster. One had to be when you were small. It was one of the few things she could remember her carrier telling her as a full frame. Use speed and smarts and apply bursts of strength as needed. 

She darted behind Breakdown, then used the back of his own peds to launch herself higher up his frame. Her processor took it all in -- every tell, every shift of his field and frame. Calculating the variables to increase her odds.

Treble ignored them all and clapped her hands hard over his audials, the clang covering the hum as she activated the magnets in her palms and let out a pulse. First, disorient, then work on neutralizing him. She wanted him down or incapacitated enough to not immediately intercept her grabbing Prima.

When Breakdown dropped _hard_ , her processor scrambled. This was wrong. He shouldn't be crumbling just from that. Treble tried to disengage and jump back from the falling heavy's frame, but he twisted and took her down with him. 

Her TACT Net had calculated that she'd wind up pinned under him. 

She didn't.

It threw her TACT net into a tizzy as her processor fumbled with its miscalculation before coming up with a new one, with disturbing clarity. "Are you going easy on me?" she hissed furiously. 

"Maybe I'm giving you a fighting chance," he rumbled, then rolled faster than she'd expect for his frame and pinned her. 

Treble spat curses at him, wounded pride and embarrassment fueling her anger, until he covered her mouth. 

"Now listen, little bot," he said low into her audial horns. "You want Prima safe? So do I and she's not safe here."

Treble hissed from behind his hand, she could barely see him from the size of his hand.

"Lower decks, floor Epsilon, is the ground bridge for the vehicons. Only one will be there right now. 'Steve'. He likes the kid, he'll let you through," Breakdown told her. “Now, I’m gonna move my hand. You start cursin’ again and I might just knock you back out before the bitlet hears.”

Her optics narrowed as she glared at him, but Breakdown did move his hand. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Breakdown let out a low, rumbling laugh. “You can’t. But she does,” he said, nodding his helm minutely toward Prima. "Even _Megatron_ knows he's not safe to be around her. Get her off this ship and _safe_."

“And you really think that Megatron’s just going to be okay with you letting me take her?” Treble asked, disbelieving. She -- he couldn’t be serious. Megatron would probably _kill_ him for this. No Decepticon was THAT selfless, not even for a sparkling.

"Oh but I'm not letting you. You're a quick vicious little thing after all. And I couldn't risk attacking you once you had Prima. He did order us to protect her _above all things_ ," he told her in that same low barely audible voice. "Hit me with your magnets again around the audials then dart for her and run. I'll give you a thousands kliks head start."

Treble grinned, probably a little more viciously than she should have considering what he was offering. But. Well. She _really_ didn’t like being underestimated, “You asked for it,” she purred slightly, and then grabbed the sides of Breakdown’s helm and activated her magnets.

Breakdown let out a howl that she was pretty sure was only half faked for as strong as they powered on. He reared back, dragging her up with him where she was still magnetized to his armor. Treble deactivated the magnets, running past the reeling mech and snatching Prima up. The sparkling chirped, startled, bright blue optics onlining. “Treb?”

“Time to go, bitlet.” Treble said, optics focused ahead of her, looking for some sign of where she was or a way down.

"Breakdown hurt?"

"He'll be okay, bitlet, but we gotta go now. We're going to go see -- Steve then go see your carrier," Treble told her. What sorta of vechicon name was Steve anyways? "Just hold on tight to me."

Prima nodded, tiny servos curling into seams in Treble’s armor. “Steve?” She asked, glyphs perking up slightly, “Steve that way.” Prima said, pointing to the left as the corridor split. 

 

Treble couldn’t quite hide her surprise that Prima knew the way to the Vehicon, but shook it off quickly, veering left at the split. Her optics lit up as she spotted a lift at the end of the hall. Her knee joint was starting to ache like a glitch again and she wasn't sure how long her frame would hold up. The tussle with Breakdown hadn't helped.

She needed engeron, a medic, and a good long defrag, but she'd told together until her mission was done. She _had_ to. 

The lift didn’t open for her -- of course not, she wasn’t a ‘Con -- but that was easy to fix. Shifting Prima to one arm, she popped open a panel in her forearm, tugging out a length of cable and plugging it into the control panel’s manual override port. Sometimes she was very glad to be both her creator's creations. Even if her folded and locked flat door wings were more a hindrance than a benefit most of the time.

Lift systems, thankfully, were universally lax when it came to security, and the doors slid open allowing Treble to dart inside. Somewhere, in the back of her processor, she could feel the thousand klik headstart Breakdown gave her counting down far too quickly for her liking. The lift seemed painfully slow, an eternity between the doors closing and opening again. Treble looked out of them and into a huge room, nearly a bay itself, that reminded her of her academy days. These must have been the Vehicon barracks. 

She pushed away those thoughts. "Do you visit Steve a lot, Prim?" she asked hoping to keep the sparkling calm as she stepped out of the lift.

“Sometimes,” Prima said, “Knock Out and Breakdown get busy. Steve watches me then! Does silly voice for stories”

"Doesn't your -- sire -- watch you some?" Treble asked, making her way through the eerily empty passageways. Where _was_ everyone? Were they avoiding confronting her with the sparkling in her arms? Was there a major battle taking place on the strange planet below?

Prima frowned a little. “Not really,” she said a little sadly, “Don’t think he likes me.”

Maybe Breakdown _hadn’t_ been lying when he said that Megatron didn’t think Prima was safe around him. "I'm sure he loves you, bitty," she said, not sure if she was lying or not, "Just sometimes things are really complicated when you get big. It'll be okay, I promise."

Prima sniffled a little, snuggling up against Treble’s chassis.

Treble patted her gently. "Which way now, bitlet?"

Prima looked around, then pointed down the way, “Over there. It’s where the big pretty gate is.”

The ground bridge. Thank Primus. "It is a very pretty gate," Treble agreed, stalking forward.

The sole vehicon both brightened and shrank back at their approach. "Hello, Prima Lux. Going on a trip?"

"Yes!" the sparkling chirped happily. "Going to see carrier!"

“We’re in kind of a hurry,” Treble said, her glyphs cool and calm even as the plating of the arm not occupied with Prima slid back, her the barrel of her blasters coming free. The tips glowed slightly, primed and ready to fire, “If you don’t mind.”

The vehicon nodded, activating the ground bridge. "This will take you to the coordinates Lord Megatron entered to meet the Autobots. He hasn’t returned yet, so they’re still there," he paused. "Take care of her, please." 

Suspicious, but knowing she had no other options, Treble nodded her helm in return. "Best I can til I have her back to her carrier," she promised stepping through the ground bridge, holding Prima tight. 

No matter where it took her, it was away from here and she'd have a better chance on the ground of finding Prime and his team. She had that much to thank Megatron for, at least, knowing Prime still lived.

When she came out of the bridge, her HUD flashing warnings of her knee joint giving way, her fuel levels dangerously low, and a full system crash imminent, it seemed too much to be luck that she almost immediately stumbled into the arms of Optimus Prime. 

There was, her processer was marginally aware, the sound of battle, but it seemed nothing more than a far away din as her main focus was the Prime. 

_Primus, thank you,_ she mummered silently, as she held upPrima to the Prime. "My Prime, Ops Agent Treble, reporting. I've protected and brought your sparkling to you as per command of Alpha Trion."

Prima’s happy chirps as the Prime took the sparkling in his arms, made Treble smile even as her knee joint finally gave out. 

"Thank you, Treble," Prime said with a trembling vocalizer. "Stand down, your mission is complete. Now let us take care of you -- Bumblebee --"

Arms went around her, keeping her from crashing to the ground. _Mission completed_ , her processor buzzed happily with pride, even as her systems started a cascading crash faster than she could read the warnings popping up in her HUD. Mission completed. She could stop. 

She had no choice.

\----

Treble jolted up upon sudden reboot, door wings flaring, optics rapidly cycling to focus, "Prima!"

"Easy, easy," an almost familiar voice soothed, red and white hands pushing her back to the berth; _medic_ , her processor immediately supplied, her TACT net letting her go slack in relief, "Don't go undoing all my hard work. Prima is fine with her carrier."

Her optics focused on the mech the voice was coming from. "Ratchet," she vented, letting herself be guided gently back onto the berth and the doorwing supports. Wait -- why were her doorwings out. "My doorwings --"

"Glad you remember me," the gruff medic said almost fondly, disconnecting from her medical port. "I released them so I could check them. Worse than your carrier keeping them locked down for decarons at a time."

"No one forgets the Hatchet," Treble told him with a only partly forced laugh. 

Ratchet huffed loudly. "Go back into recharge. You need it, your systems are a mess."

Treble shook her helm slowly even as her process tried to lure her back into recharge. "Need to speak with the Prime."

Ratchet patted her arm. "Optimus will still be here when you wake up. Rest."

"But -- Smokey -- did he -- is he? Did carrier --"

Ratchet turned away to work on something out of her view. "Recharge, Treble. Save the questions for when you're not about to shut down again."

Grief choked her intake and flooded her systems -- but her processor and frame wouldn't be denied. Sedative code, she thought before her optics cycled down and she fell into the oblivion of recharge.


End file.
